


The Things We Learn

by Bythoseburningembers



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Best Friends, Brotherhood, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Obi-wan is so precious, One Big Happy Family, POV First Person, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Secrets, Tickle Fights, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, mostly cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bythoseburningembers/pseuds/Bythoseburningembers
Summary: Five things Anakin learns about his former Master after he is Knighted. Written in short scenes.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 48
Kudos: 531
Collections: SW Especially Satisfying Stories





	1. Cuddle-Bug

**Author's Note:**

> So, here I am again writing about my two favorite boys with the beautiful but confounding friendship that will end in ashes and a totalitarian regime... 
> 
> Enjoy.

Obi-wan is a cuddler.

Don't look at me like that, it's true. I can't make stuff like this up. 

Ok, fine, maybe I should have already known but _c’mon_ , this is Obi-wan Kenobi we’re talking about. He’s not exactly a _hugger._ True, true, I used to wriggle against Obi-wan’s side during the night when I was nine.

Hm, thinking on it now, Bant used to say I was like a baby colwar when Qui-gon first found me, small, fluffy and timid and for good kriffing reason. The Jedi temple is _massive_ and hollow and filled with Force-sensitive _warriors._ I was a child who had spent nine years shackled to a tiny hut with my mom. I was cold, overwhelmed and scared out of my mind most of the time those first few weeks, and Obi-wan was the only person I knew. Well, not knew _knew_. We didn’t know each other at all then.

Still, he was a bright, stable… _Person_ in the Force, so I used to patter my way into his room when I couldn’t stand the weirdness and quiet anymore. And of course, I did so surreptitiously. I was a slave before! We weren’t supposed to make noise or announce our own existence. Besides, I was just a kid craving the safety of a familiar and warm body next to me. In my mind, there was no need to wake Obi-wan.

So… Yeah. That first time, Obi-wan most certainly woke. I don’t know how or why he didn’t sense me before, but whatever. He almost decapitated me. I wet myself because he almost decapitated me. We both tried to apologize over each other. It was _real_ awkward. Fast forward a few weeks and I did it again. I knocked that time. Obi-wan being Obi-wan, he was waiting for me with a cup of warm tea.

Fast-forward a few years. I slept in Obi-wan’s bed a couple more times. Not often, mind you, but whenever something was really serious. Like the first time I was severely poisoned and got sick. I basically _lived_ in Obi-wan’s bed for a couple days. I stopped when I turned fifteen, so that’s a good chunk of time he allowed me to get away with that kinda behavior. Other Jedi wouldn’t have, I discovered later.

Back to topic. Obi-wan used to hold me those times. I guess I just assumed it was because I was a kid? I mean, when I got to the Temple, I was a malnourished, little twig of a child. I basically fit under his right arm and Obi-wan may be hard, but he isn’t heartless.

All the time.

Anyway, I always thought it was kinda just a… Compassion thing? I’ve seen him hold babies and younglings the same way. So imagine my kriffing surprise when I am Knighted, I have a Padawan of my own, and there are only two bunks on one of our missions. Ahsoka gets her own, of course. That doesn’t even need to be discussed between us. Yet that means Obi-wan and I get to share space. Again, not even something that needs to be discussed.

But imagine this. The bunk isn’t small. It’s large and spacious enough for us both to accommodate space and if all goes well, we wouldn’t necessarily need to touch or even breathe near each other in the night. Being night, its completely dark in the room. Ahsoka has already passed out across from us, and Obi-wan is sitting on the other side of the bed going over mission data. Of course. I know how this goes.

“Would you give it a _rest_ already?” I groan at him, snagging the covers and pulling them over my head to protect from the harsh light of his holo-pad.

“One more minute.”

“Aren’t you _tired?_ ” I hiss. “We fought three battalions today!”

“ _Ahsoka and_ _I_ fought three battalions. You executed fancy choreography in an attempt to frighten the enemy, remember?”

Honestly, we sound like a married couple sometimes. I know this. Padme has even said it. “In your dreams maybe. Which, come to think of it,” it isn’t really a sign of disrespect when I use The Force to snatch the tablet. He would work all night if no one intervened. I know. I’ve seen him do it. Besides, he only narrows his eyes at me, so he isn’t too angry. “Maybe you should start dreaming and find out just how _frightening_ my choreography can be, _Master Kenobi,”_ and there.

“You’re no dancer, Anakin.”

“You never threatened to punish me for it, so I had no incentive to pick up the art. Now go to bed.” Then I turn over, right? Because tomorrow is another boring day of negotiations with this stupid planetary leadership that I am sure are Separatists. I am _sure_ of it. I need rest for that. I turn onto my stomach, hug my pillow and… I’m moving.

Just like that.

Being pulled by the Force, and then Obi-wan is settling beside me. Like, _right_ beside me. So close that his side and my side are pressed skin to skin and his arm is around my waist. Ok, ok, I know this sounds like a joke, but I’m serious. And the craziest part of this story is that Obi-wan doesn’t even seemed fazed. He literally just closes his eyes and deep sighs.

“Um… What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Hush.”

That isn’t what I meant, but obviously he doesn’t notice or maybe he doesn’t care because he isn’t moving. And I’m not objecting, alright? Unlike Obi-wan, I _am_ a touchy person. Ahsoka complains about it all the time. Besides, Obi-wan runs naturally warm while I don’t, he barely moves in his sleep and neither do I, and the pure, animal comfort of knowing someone you trust -without reserve- is by your side in your most vulnerable state? Not a bad feeling.

It just shocked me is all. Because I expected him to stay all the way _over there._ On his side of the bed. And insist on keeping it that way but no. Apparently, he liked to stay close. I think I understand a little. After all, the easiest way to keep track of someone is through touch and believe me, he’s still keeping track. I know because when I tried to move away to go to the fresher, his hand _literally_ clenched on my back.

“Anakin? What is it?” He mumbled.

And, for some reason, it was- is- the most natural question in the galaxy. He doesn’t even open his eyes and I am still a hundred percent sure he is mostly unconscious. This isn’t an informed decision or doubt. The Force is even sloppy when he uses it to probe at me, the subtle and invisible hand that scrabbled over my face and neck.

_Are you still there? Do you need me?_

And I’ve never had a father, per se. Mom always said I kinda just _appeared_ one day. Then after, the Jedi Code states no attachments or you shall be forever banished, blah blah blah. Still, when I imagine what a father would be, I feel that unspoken question hanging in the air. The whisper of care that tangled round our bond in that moment. And I imagine my reaction, which was to also reach out blindly in the dark, half-awake, yawning through my whispered reply.

“S’okay, master. I’m here.” And he settled. And I settled. And maybe that’s what a father is and does. He went right back to cuddling against my side when I returned, and I slept soundly. Ahsoka found us like that in the morning. Still won’t let me live it down, of course, but hey, now she even sees it as a normal behavior. Obi-wan, I don’t think, knows that he does it, or maybe he does and doesn’t see any reason to stop doing it. I don’t know or care.

After all, it’s a good system. We even have other versions of it during battle or in silence. A quiet, non-verbal way to reach out and grab each other for verification.

_Are you there? Do you need me?_

Most of the time, I’m fine. He’s fine.

We always need each other anyways.


	2. Hostage Situation

Obi-wan is ticklish.

Shut your mouth. Don’t tell anyone or he will literally murder me. In my sleep.

But yeah, you heard me right. That trickster barve is ticklish. There were plenty of times in my childhood when he deployed his fiendish advantage of knowing about my ticklishness to force _me_ into compliance, and maybe out of fear of retaliation I never tried it on him. Or maybe because he barely _flinches_ when you punch him full in the face.

Obi-wan is hard-headed and thick-skinned. And it’s such a… A human thing to be, I guess. I mean, I know he’s technically human and in some academic part of my brain, I think I knew that there was every chance he was ticklish like almost every other human in the galaxy but kriff…

I wonder if Windu is ticklish.

I shudder to even consider it. Before you start, it wasn’t even my fault that I found out. Apparently, Obi-wan made an enemy out of Quin-lan Vos again. I don’t know what it was this time. Those two have an odd, competitive relationship that would be problematic and against-the-code if the council didn’t love Obi-wan best of everyone in the entire Jedi Order. I try to stay outta whatever rivalry Obi-wan has with Quin-lan, I really do. Especially since being Knighted. Quin-lan is… A character.

Obi-wan is curmudgeonly and sarcastic. I am impatient and impulsive. Put those personality traits together and tell me that I should take a bigger role in Obi-wan’s personal spats. Anyway, I was just mindin my own Force-forsaken business in the Healer’s Ward, annoyed with a certain friend of mine because he had turned me into the Healers when we got back to The Temple. He had _betrayed_ me and so I had to sit there and be poked and prodded by Bant and her cronies.

It was uncomfortable and unnecessary and _mean,_ especially since I help Obi-wan get out of all _his_ Healer visits and then he just goes and rats me out. Traitor. Anyway, I was sitting on the bench basically naked since Bant confiscated my lightsaber, waiting for this stupid droid to finish scanning my fractured Tibia or Radius or whatever it was. I break a lot of bones. I can’t remember.

And into the room strutted none other than Quin-lan Vos. The droid tried to kick him out. Mine was a private room after all, and he was probably wanted by Bant too. “Heard Kenobi betrayed you to the Temple interrogators,” he told me, without preamble. I stared. “The _healers,”_ he qualified, unnecessarily.

“Why are you here?” I wasn’t exactly in the mood for bragging, mind you.

“I know how you can get him back.”

“I’ll just rig his starfighter with Courascanti Red District tunes like I always do,” I informed him huffily. After all, this was not my first-time doing battle with Obi-wan and most certainly not the last. He knew retaliation was on its way.

“You can do that? Nice. But my way is better.” I was curious, ok? Sue me _. Sue me._ Obi-wan always taught me to seek further knowledge and never stop in my pursuit of learning so really, it was his fault.

“Yeah?”

“Right here,” Quin-lan jabbed a finger at his lowest rib. “He’s ticklish as the nine corellian Hells here. He hates it too.”

I blinked. Like, twelve times. “What?”

“Give it a try.”

“Are you saying that _Obi-wan_ is ticklish?”

“You didn’t know?” Quin-lan demanded, as if this is something everyone in the Temple knows.

“I would just like to confirm that this is _Obi-wan Kenobi_ you’re talking about?”

“Is there more than one?”

I didn’t know what to do with the information, so I politely thanked Master Vos for his… Er… Tip and then Bant came to haul him out by the ear. To be completely honest, I didn’t believe him. Sure, Quin-lan has known Obi-wan since the creche, but he's also crazy. Maybe Obi-wan had been ticklish as a kid, but my no-nonsense, no-fun master could not be ticklish as an adult.

How wrong I was. How fun it was to discover.

Anyway, I forgot about the whole conversation for months until Obi-wan went and got himself captured by pirates again. It’s _always pirates_. I had to rescue him. Save the day. The whole works. Usual story. But during his captivity, Obi-wan somehow managed to catch some sort of mega-sickness that left him in the throes of fever for two rotations.

When he woke up, he was confined to bed rest until we reached Courascant. Of course he didn’t stay there. We were attacked on our way to the Temple healers. General Grievous made a surprise cameo. My bantha brains best friend somehow managed to leave his bed while sporting a mild fever and fight the stupid droid monster wannabe and I had to drag him back to his room and convince him to rest.

It’s harder than it sounds. “Give it to me,” I order from his bedside three hours later. Someone made the mistake (I bet it was my Padawan. She has a lot to learn) of giving him a holo-pad, and now he’s running statistics programs for where Grievous might turn up next as if there isn’t an entire bridge of capable clones doing just that.

“In a minute.”

Yeah right. “I know what a minute means to you. It means you’re not going to put it down for ten hours and by tomorrow you’ll be in a coma from over-work. Give it to me. I’m putting you on probation for _at least_ five hours.”

Then he glares at me as if I’m the one being unreasonable and practicing self-destructive tendencies. Do you see how he just _turns_ things on you? “Are you using your Master voice with me right now?”

Huh. I guess I have one of those now. Pretty karkin awesome, even if Obi-wan doesn’t look like he agrees. “Is it working?”

Then he laughs at me. Or, its more of a chuckle really. But he looks a little contemptuous for my ego, and he’s already laughing, right? So of course I flop across his lap dramatically, and of course I dig my fingers into that spot. I didn’t think it would work. If anything, I was just trying to irritate him into giving me the holo-pad.

I don't expect him to _nearly die._

Let me tell you, I have never, and I mean _ever_ , heard Obi-wan’s voice soar that high _that fast_ except in life-or-death situations aboard a ship in Hyperspace _._ And his voice cracks, too, like a prepubescent teenager. “An-akin!” He squeaks, and then I am being shoved off the bed.

I pop back up like a Rancor peering out from its pit. “He wasn’t lying?” Again, I was sure that Quin-lan, being himself, was just messing around with me. He does it sometimes, with basically everyone in the near vicinity. Obi-wan looks as shocked as I am. 

“Anakin, this kind of treachery I would expect from Quin-lan, even Garen. But _you?”_

And he sounds so hurt that I am automatically on the defensive. “You wouldn’t give me the ‘pad!” I splutter, because my brain isn’t functioning on the highest capacity since learning that _my_ former master is ticklish.

“So you decide to _accost_ me?”

“You weren’t listening, and I didn’t think he was telling the truth!” To be fair, I kinda understand why Obi-wan hadn’t divulged this secret. One, he likes playing the dignified and untouchable Master role all too well. Two, I am the kind of person to take advantage of the knowledge. I grin. “Give me the pad, Obi-wan.”

“Is this a _hostage_ situation?” Fun fact: Obi-wan gets offended pretty quickly. He also, for some reason, finds everything I say a challenge he fully intends to meet. Really irritating. But more fun for me now. I don’t even engage in his Boshooda Hutt kark this time. I just dive over and use the Force to hold him down.

Less than forty seconds later, he is curled into a wheezing ball and fairly chucks the pad at me. “A-alright! Take it! I g-g-give!” I have the impression that if he weren’t so sick, this would have been much harder than it was. But hey, when The Force bestows a gift, who am I to turn it away?

“ _Thank you,”_ I nab the pad, victorious. And that’s the story. Obi-wan pretty much acted as if I had betrayed him to the Sith for a few hours but at least he slept. No comas. No over-working and he didn’t even employ his usual snark. If you ask me, our relationship is much more even now, too.

Obi-wan no longer has the high ground, if you will. If he annoys me too much one day, I just wiggle my fingers and he promptly shuts his trap and returns to being less irritating. It’ so nice. Those rare days when he either can’t or won’t stop irritating me, I win anyway. Like one day I tickled him to tears and it was the _greatest_ thing ever. Obi-wan doesn’t laugh nearly as much as he used too these days, especially as the war just continues on and on. So now that I have a cheat sheet? Oh, you better believe I use it at the smallest provocation.

Again, don’t tell him I told you. He might actually _never_ speak to me again and we get deployed on too many missions together for that to be a sustainable system. I found out that a certain Quin-lan Vos was sent to a manure factory shortly after that event, and he smelled like… Well, like shit for weeks. Obi-wan is vengeful too, I think. I wonder why my retaliation hasn’t come yet.

Guess I’m just his favorite.


	3. Lineage

He spoils her.

Yeah, you heard me. It’s completely unfair. Obi-wan treats Ahsoka as if she can do no wrong. There are a few and _I mean a few_ exceptions. Like that one time she tried to disobey a direct order and almost got her entire squad of clones killed. That time, he was pretty angry. Somehow, he found a way to blame me for her blatant disregard for the Code and direct orders.

I mean, _really?_ Obi-wan is still angry at me for the time I accidentally set the Temple garden on fire when I was thirteen. Thirteen! How is it that when Ahsoka does something explicitly dangerous or prideful or whatever, he just nods and agrees that it is due to my baleful influence. It’s as if she was a perfect little angel before she met me, and I know that’s a pile of Boshooda otherwise Master Yoda wouldn’t have given her to me.

You don’t believe me? Fine. Get this. Apparently, Ahsoka and Obi-wan have a ritual of going to amusement parks once a year. I’m serious. It’s a whole ass _holiday,_ practically. And according to Snips, I’m not even invited.

Let me tell you, I had never considered what kind of _grand-master_ Obi-wan would become. Ever since I got Ahsoka, he’s been laughing at my every struggle, argument and hurdle. I can admit that’s fair. He and Ahsoka have a pretty solid relationship, too, which I encouraged because… Well, for obvious reasons. Obi-wan and I are joined at the blasted hip anyway. She may as well like him.

Besides, I didn’t get nearly as much time with Master Jinn as I would have liked, and I used to imagine what it would be like if he were still alive. The ways that Obi-wan and I would hang out with him, the nights I would sit with Qui-gon and tell him all about the new droid I was working on that my master thought was a waste of sentient space. I wanted Ahsoka to have that time with Obi-wan. Time I never had with Qui-gon, and with the war and my secret relationship, it just seemed… Right, I guess. That she has other people to rely on. I’ve only ever had Obi-wan.

But I didn’t expect it to turn out like _this._ Ok, to preface this story I don’t spend a lot of time in The Temple when we’re stationed on Courascant. If Padme is there and I’m there, we spend as much time together as humanly possible. So, I knew Ahsoka had to have friends or activities or whatever to occupy her time. My Padawan is a restless spirit. Wonder where she learned that from.

But today, Padme is on Mandalore and I’m here. So when Ahsoka tries to sneak past me in our quarters, I extend an olive branch because I do feel guilty that I’m not around as much as other Masters. “Hey Snips,” I call. “How about you and I spar today, huh?”

And she turns around as if I’ve just asked her to wrestle a rancor. “Uh… What? Aren’t you going out today?”

“Nah, I canceled my plans,” I lie. Because reasons. “I wanted to spend some time with my Padawan.”

She looks suspicious. It’s not right. She cocked her head and sets her feet and stares. “Er… Ok. That’s sweet, Master, but I have plans today too,” she says, and ok, I should have seen that coming. I’m not angry. Just curious.

“Yeah? Where are you going?”

“Uh…” Then the door slides open and lo and behold, its my former Master. Not an odd sight. If I’m not messing with Obi-wan, he’s messing with me but this time his eyes are targeted specifically for Ahsoka.

“Padawan, hurry. We’re going to miss the… Anakin?” Now they’re both staring at me like two anthraf’s caught in a tractor beam. At first, I assumed Obi-wan was having a kriffing flashback or something because he said Padawan. Hasn’t called me that in at least six years. But their faces are indication enough that I’m not the one being addressed here.

“Obi-wan?” I probe. “What are you going to miss?”

“The…” They exchanged a glance. “The nav-train. Into downtown Courascant. For patrol,” Ahsoka blurts.

“Yes,” Obi-wan drawls, slowly. “Patrol.”

They’re terrible liars when we aren’t on mission. Actually, Ahsoka is a terrible liar in general. Did you see her try to act out the part of a slave? She called me a brigand. An actual _brigand._ And the awkward smile on her face is the same one she used on the Zyggerians on that mission. I cross my arms.

“What are you two up too?” I demand.

Obi-wan levels a stern stare at my Padawan. “He doesn’t know?”

I throw up my hands. “Know what?”

Ahsoka groans. “He’s never here! Besides,” she stared up at him through thick eyelashes with wide eyes and distinctly pouting lips. I gawk. “This is... _Our_ thing, isn’t it Master?” And immediately she has Obi-wan Kenobi, Jedi general and Master of the Order, wrapped around her little finger. He smiles.

“Of course it is, but he should still _know,_ Ahsoka.”

They are seriously speaking as if I’m not in the room right now. Not even joking. I glare. I _know_ they see me. “What are you guys talking about?’

Ahsoka leaned into whisper; “what if he wants to _come?”_

“Oh no,” Now Obi-wan looks concerned. He swivels around and glares at me as if this is somehow my fault. Studies me a minute. “I don’t think so. We’ll be fine.”

“Where are you taking my Padawan?” I demand.

“To the moon,” Obi-wan answers with his uppity Courascant accent. Now, Courascant’s moon is basically an amusement park. It acts as the virtual vacation spot for everyone in the universe. It’s expensive and crowded but so kriffing fun its unbelievable. “For the day. We’re going to grab Juniberry shakes.”

Ok, so this may sound innocent, but it isn’t. First, Obi-wan is too recognizable to go anywhere in the civilian sphere without being recognized instantly. That means he and Ahsoka will have to don disguises. They will go a complete day without the pressures of leadership or oaths. They’ll just be people, uninhibited and unattached and that’s a rare gift that Obi-wan never, ever gave me.

Besides, “I love juniberry shakes!”

“Mm-hmm,” Ahsoka grumbles.

“Wait, you’re going without me?” I squeak. “Hold up just _one minute_ ,” I add. “Is this… Like… An established thing?”

“Well, yeah,” Ahsoka explains apologetically. “Master Obi-wan and I go every year together. For fun.”

“Fun!?”

“I should have told you,” Ahsoka continues. “I’m sorry. But you’re barely ever here and you don’t care where I go so long as I don’t get into trouble. Master Obi-wan and I never get to spend quality time together!” Ok, that kinda stings. It isn’t that I don’t care where Ahsoka is, I just trust her to be able to take care of herself when I’m not around and… Obi-wan, stop glaring at me like that! I’m not neglecting her. I’m giving her independence.

“You see him every week! We go on every other mission with _him,”_ I point out.

“That doesn’t count,” she gasps. Fine. Whatever. Ahsoka has her reasons but I’m still upset. I jab a finger at my former Master.

“And you! You never took _me_ to the moon!”

Obi-wan is unimpressed. He just stands there, arms crossed, as if he’s facing off against an unstable opponent. “Jealousy ill becomes you, Anakin.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m _wounded!”_ I try that pouting, wide eyed thing Ahsoka just did. He narrows his eyes and the Force fairly slaps me with his disapproval. This is. So. Not. Fair. “Why didn’t you ever take _me_ to do fun things when I was a Padawan?”

“We did do fun things. I took you to Bandomeer every other year.”

“To do _manual labor_.”

“Well,” he seems to think this over. The barve. “I certainly had fun,” _the barve._

“How dare you.”

“Master,” Ahsoka whines, edging to the door. “We’re going to miss our nav-train…” They’re really going without me. Yeah. You know the truth now. Master Kenobi has favorites and I apparently was bunked down into the un-favorite pile when I was Knighted.

Then I notice Ahsoka. I’ve known this girl for almost three years now. I’ve seen her in battle, triumph, defeat, excited, injured, near tears and wracked with guilt. I rarely ever see her happy and that twinkle in her eye? The way that her fingers are curled just slightly into Obi-wan’s sleeve like a youngling? That’s a piece of Ahsoka the war has stripped from my every-day vision.

And its _so nice_ that yes, I am a little jealous. I’m jealous that Obi-wan brings it out of her. I’m jealous that I never had this experience with an elder besides Obi-wan. When he took me to train, it was just… Us. Me and Obi-wan against the universe. Qui-gon’s comfort and belief was a mere memory, and time with him are only cherished dreams. Knowing that Ahsoka gets this, that she now has a part of Obi-wan that used to belong exclusively to me… It isn’t an easy pill to swallow.

But I want them to be happy. I love them both too much and honestly, this is really cute. Ahsoka ducking behind Obi-wan and him standing there like a mountain, waiting for permission to take her. They’re both mine, loyal to me and dear to me in equal measure. Yet they belong to each other too, and I shove my jealousy of that fact aside to make room for gladness.

“Alright,” I sigh, raising my hands in defeat. “Fine. Take her. But I want you to think about how lucky you are, padawan,” I tell her. “Obi-wan never took _me_ to the moon.”

Ahsoka’s smile is _burning._ “That said, you owe me an annual outing too, Obi-wan. Twelve years’ worth,” I continue. His smile is just as blinding, and it gets a smile out of me too. So what if he spoils Ahsoka rotten? This war steals so much joy from us already. Let them have some fun.

“Wanna go to Dex’s with me if we’re not both sent to the frontline by morning? We can go early, before anyone else is allowed inside,” he tempts, and the thought of eating breakfast at a friend’s, with _my best friend_ beside me, is too good to be true.

“You’re paying.”

He chuckles. “It’d be my pleasure, Anakin.”

I laugh and wave them off. “Go. Have fun. Don’t keep her out _too_ late, Obi-wan.”

“Yes, Master Skywalker,” he teases.

“Thanks Master!” Ahsoka cries, her delight like a hearth fire in The Force. She grabs Obi-wan’s hand and literally drags him from the room. “I’ll bring you back a shake! See you later!” Then they’re gone.

There are plenty of other examples of my former Master’s favoritism and collusion with Ahsoka’s trouble. I actively work on not caring. If those two bantha heads want to cause trouble together, let them. At least Ahsoka has someone else to lean on, and Obi-wan keeps her occupied for a few hours. There are worse problems to have.

That’s what I tell Padme anyway. _“I think its sweet, Ani,”_ she’ll always coo _. “And look on the bright side, while they’re both away, we can go anywhere we want, **do** anything we wish…”_

Ha ha. Like I said, _everyone_ wins.


	4. Pulse Point

A Jedi bond is special.

Believe me, I’ve been lucky enough to have many bonds with many people. With mom, Qui-gon, Padme… No matter what the Jedi say, love is not a weakness. It is not a distraction, it is… Just… _Everything._ It’s what makes the heart pulse. I like to think that compassion is just an extension – a loophole, if you will – around that. And its ultimate manifestation in the Jedi Order is through the Jedi Bond.

I don’t know how to describe it. It’s… Intimate. One of the most profound things I’ve ever experienced. In battle, I can literally sync with Obi-wan until we’re just two sides of a single mirror, reflections and sinew connected by a common thread and purpose. The first time I acknowledged it, I was instantly humbled and honored. It takes years to build a bond, mutual trust and respect on both sides.

And Obi-wan is so private, so _guarded_ , he has so many layers before you reach even the surface of his core but I’m one of the only people who has permission to do just that. Not only that, I can _touch_ his core and receive nothing but a slight shiver and wave of amusement. He can do the same.

We have our secrets of course. The Force is never a nursemaid. If it were as easy as establishing a bond, every Jedi would have one because then we could all reach sync easily. But that’s not what it is. The bond can be closed, like a door almost. Actually, having it open is dangerous. We might lose ourselves in each other.

Still, Obi-wan and I have a special bond. When his stomach growls, I can feel echoes of it in my own gut. Unfortunately, the downside is that I can also feel his pain. And somehow, _someway,_ Obi-wan always manages to get himself into situations that end in _a lot_ of pain.

Nospress. I don’t like to think about the siege of Nospress. It was a blood bath, one of the worst in the whole war. I can only be grateful Ahsoka was with Master Plo halfway across the galaxy then. She didn’t need to be stained with the carnage of that battle. We lost so many troops, good men…

I almost lost Obi-wan.

And what is it I learned from that hellhole? I discovered that if, Force forbid, he ever _… Dies,_ Obi-wan’s last all-consuming, star-bright, sanctified _instinct_ will be to hear _my_ voice before he joins the Force. That’s it. Only then will he succumb to death and when I learned that, I wanted to tear out my own vocal cords because…. _Force,_ this is hard. Well, because.

Anyway, Nospress had been in the Republic a long time. Two hundred something years. But it’s a gaseous planet, with a core made of the same nearly indestructible metal we use for clone armor. Dooku wanted it bad. He sent a whole horde of droids to claim it, including General Grievous.

The battle lasted nearly three weeks. We attacked. It was an ambush. We were severely outnumbered, and our communications cut off. Obi-wan led a troop of clones into the murk of the planet’s gaseous lining. The natives live on platforms in the gas. Their species has evolved to withstand the high acidity of the planet, but Obi-wan and the clones have not. I told him not to go but we had no choice. He needed to destroy the communications tower that the Separatists were using to block our transmissions. Without help, we’d die.

I’m in space, in my starfighter with Artoo when he hails me over our private channel. That’s a red flag, of course. We never use private channels in battle. And my stomach had been throbbing, just vaguely, for an hour. I didn’t think anything of it. I’ve been in space for maybe seven hours now. I could be hungry, dehydrated, anxious, any number of things. We may not be gross matter, but the matter still lets us know when our luminosity is pushing it.

“Obi-wan!?” I yell over the comm, ducking a pair of droid fighters. They follow me. “How’s it goin down there?”

“Oh, you know,” my heart skips a beat at his voice, so soft and tired. As if he’s on the edge of sleep. “There were droids, there was blasting… It’s becoming a bit boring, actually.”

“Does that mean you’re about to destroy the station?”

“Oh, is _that_ what I was doing?” Obi-wan sounds surprised. “Interesting. Hmm. Yes. I’m in position to do that. Thank you for reminding me.”

I nearly pivot straight into a clone fighter. Obi-wan never forgets the mission objective. Never. I glance down into the red murk of the planet. In humans, the gas attacks the central nervous system first, starts messing with hormones and synapses. It was supposed to be a peaceful death.

“Obi-wan,” I’m shaking but I keep my voice calm. First rule of battle. Always remain calm. “Where are you?”

“In position,” he sounds unfocused. Dreamy, almost. I reach out in our bond, feel its slippery luminance wrap around my wrist, loosely. Tug. Then float away. Cold sweat breaks out along my temple.

“In the station?”

“I… I think so. Yes. Yes, I am. I’m right beside the control panels.”

I pale. “The ones with _bombs_ on them?” We only have timed bombs left. We destroyed all our manual ones in the first wave of the attack. He could only take _timed_ bombs with him. “Master, what are you still _doing_ in there? How long until they go off?”

“I’m not sure,” Obi-wan hmms. There’s some rustling, a grunt. “Ah. Sixty-five seconds. That’s why I commed you. I seem to be a bit… Stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“Yes. I’m afraid one of these super battle droids… Ugh… Got in a lucky shot. I won’t be able to get up.”

My entire spine chills. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Anakin,” he says, halfway between a breath and a laugh. “There’s no time. It’s too late.”

I’m already leaving the battle. I press my fighter forward, nose-diving to Obi-wan’s coordinates. My heart is pounding. The dull ache in my stomach now feels like a terrible throbbing. I can almost feel the blood pooling below me, warm and wet in my hair. It’s Obi-wan’s hair. His blood. But it may as well be my death too.

“Don’t say that, old man,” I growl because I am not doing this. Not with him, not _like this_. “I’m on my way right now. I’ll come grab you and we’ll be off this planet before you can say Yoda-is-a-troll four times.”

“Such a brat,” he huffs. “A-Anakin,” his voice breaks. He inhales a quivering breath. I can almost feel his hand around mine, the gentle warmth of it against my skin. “You were… So little when Q-Qui-gon found you… So little, and now, n-n0-ow look at you. You make me so proud. You always have.”

_No. No, no, no, no._

“Hey, shut up, ok? Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare say those things to me! I’m coming to get you!” The sides of my starfighter are on fire. I can feel the flames creeping into the cockpit, hear Artoo screaming but its nothing compared to the stark terror in my soul as I feel our bond dimming, his life and Light starting to wane…

_Fifteen seconds._

“Anakin… Padawan… J-just keep talking. I just want to hear your voice.”

“Stop it,” I’m begging. I’m begging and flying as fast as I kriffing can because Force, please, _please_ don’t take him. Tears roll down my cheeks. Its not enough. I am _never_ enough to save the ones I love. “Save your strength. I’m coming. I swear on everything good, Obi-wan; I’m coming to get you. I won’t fail you…”

_Four._

_Three._

“Never fail me,” Obi-wan gasps. “Anakin, I lov-”

_One._

Huh. Yeah. So, uh, he lives. By some miracle, he survived the blast, albeit with severe scarring. My fighter was blown away by the shockwave, but Rex, thank the Force for him, started searching for Obi-wan while I was unconscious. He’d been found by the time I woke up. But it wasn’t until a few rotations later that he was out of the bacta tank, and a few more days before he could speak.

I was _livid._

“What the hells were you thinking!?” I shout when he can sit up and speak on his own. I storm into the med-center and Gash and Scrap make themselves scarce pretty quickly. I barely notice. Obi-wan is covered in bandages and scratches and he looks wan as kriff, but he meets my gaze head-on.

“If you’ve not noticed, I survived,” he points out.

“You should have called me earlier! I could have gotten you out, I could have _not_ nearly been blown to smithereens because you were too stubborn to call for back-up!” I roar. He is calm. He’s always calm, and I am _so_ glad he’s alive but so… _Angry._

“Anakin, my helmet had been cracked in the battle,” he explains, patiently. “The gas made me disorientated and confused. Frankly, I’m surprised I managed to get through to you at all. By the time I did, it was too late. And you should have known that. You shouldn’t have tried to…”

“You comm me on the edge of death and thought I _wouldn’t_ come for you?! Blast it, Obi-wan, I would have carved a path through _the galaxy_ to reach you! You know that! So why did you comm me?!” I’m not actually angry he commed me. I don’t know why I’m angry. Because he nearly died on me? I don’t know.

Obi-wan knows what I’m really asking. He doesn’t always, but when it counts, he knows me better than _anyone_. He smiles. Gentle. Affectionate. “I thought I was going to die,” he whispers. “I thought I was going to join the Force, and I needed to know that you were alright. That you were still out there somewhere, fighting, and that you knew how proud you make me. How proud I’ve always been.”

What can I say? My knees buckle but I don’t fall. Somehow, I don’t fall. Instead I stumble to his bedside and collapse into the chair beside him. He grabs my hand, real, alive, warm and I press my forehead to his fingers. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he says. Because he did. Because that’s the downside to having a bond like ours. If he had died, it would have felt as if my world fell away.

I’m not entirely sure I wouldn’t have jumped into the fire with him.

He tilts my chin up and we lock eyes. His crinkle at the corners, smiling. “But next time, try not to get yourself blown up on my behalf, hm?”

“Then don’t die.”

“Even stars die, Anakin.”

“Not you, master,” I press my lips to the one bared patch of skin on his palm. “Never you. I will _never_ say goodbye to you.”

“Oh Anakin.” He sounds sad, as if I’ve said something terrible but I know the truth. He loves me. He won’t ever admit it, but he had labored through agony and confusion to tell me _that_ in what he believed were his last moments. He’s the closest thing I have to a father and the only brother I’ve ever had. I will fly into as many fires as there are stars in the galaxy to save him. I can’t lose him. And if I die before him, I’ll comm him too. And I’ll finish the sentence he never did, scream it across our bond until the Force has long snatched me. Every Jedi from Courascant to the outer rim will hear my words echoing in the Force. Forever.

 _I love you,_ I’ll tell him _. I love you. I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being._


	5. The Lives We Could have Lived

Jedi are not allowed to have families.

Oh, you already knew? Well, let me reiterate it for you. Jedi are forbidden from having families _outside_ the Order. Yeah, that little distinguishing factor was never really made clear to me in words. I used to be so… Confused. Disturbed even, by the rule. Not allowed families? Not allowed attachments of any _kind_? How did these people live?

But its not what the Jedi say, you see. You can’t really pay attention to stuff like that because of course everyone is going to spout the Code at you. No, you look at the fine print. The silence. The truth is in the silence. Obi-wan taught me that. Jedi don’t have families, we have loyalties.

It just so happens that we swear loyalty to the Jedi, the Force and the Republic. It wasn’t until I started training Ahsoka that I realized that Jedi do consider themselves part of a family. The Jedi is their family, their lives, the very core of their beings. They love the Order and the temple like I love Padme.

Kinda crazy, huh? I guess I only see it because I am fundamentally an outsider. I did not grow up in the creche. I came late into the game, so my outlook is a little different. Or, a lot different. On Tatooine, the Jedi were discussed as a cult. A very large, very powerful cult of weird, aloof flying people who worship air and speak in aphorisms. Gotta say, if I didn’t feel the Force, I’d think so too.

When I was growing up, I envied the other Padawans their ignorance. They had never known their birth families, were never torn between one life and the next, between loyalties that went beyond the womb, and loyalties that went into the cosmic life-force. I resented Obi-wan for never knowing his mother.

Never thought to ask whether he actually did.

And he does. Know his mother, I mean. Found that out a while ago.

It was after Ahsoka left the Order. We had been deployed on a stealth mission, just me and him, to find information about the whereabouts of Darth Maul. Didn’t find anything but cold trails and a sudden outnumbered battle with the Seppies. Of course, in this battle our ship was severely damaged and my talent only goes so far. As soon as we reentered Republic space, we had to land, find parts, fix the damned thing. We happened to land on this planet called Stewjon.

Obi-wan and I didn’t speak much in those days. I was so angry about what had happened with Ahsoka that I bounced from mission to mission for weeks, never taking my eyes off the goal right in front of me. He was absorbed with finding Maul. He spent every spare second on it. I think we were both trying to cope with her loss in different ways.

Stewjon is a loyal planet in the Republic. The minute they knew Jedi were arriving, they had an entire welcoming party prepared for us. Someone whisked away the ship in record time and we were formally given rooms to stay in. Obi-wan, in a move that surprised me as much as the Prime Minister, refused. “I have contacts on planet,” he told her with a charming smile. “It’s probably past time I visit.”

Her eyes widened, as if she had just recalled something. She bowed. “Oh… Of course, Master Kenobi. Of course! Your mother will be delighted to see you, I’m sure. Please, give your family my regards,” and that’s how I found out about his family. Again, this was just one of those very human things that I had not seen coming. Maybe its because I consider myself Obi-wan’s family. Maybe its because he’s the most Jedi-Jedi person I know, so how could he even have met them?

Yeah. So of course I went with him.

The Kenobi home is…Small. To say the least. It’s little more than a cottage in the middle of a large orchard. Metal barn on the side, endless fields of soft, free-flowing wheat and beyond that, some kind of fruit. His father makes some of the best wine I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve been seated in Naboo mansions. His mother is a short, unassuming woman who reminds me of mom, but she’s as stern and tough as Obi-wan himself. Has a few midi-chlorians in her, so she sensed us as we were walking up to the wide porch, with the single lantern hanging outside the gate. He has _at least_ five siblings.

Its at once so human and so… Not. I didn’t know what to do, especially when Obi-wan’s mother flung open the doors the moment Obi-wan opened the rusty wooden gates surrounding the property. Dogs yowled nearby. “Obi-wan!” She flung herself on him, and he hugged her back. He actually did. Not joking.

“What are you doing here?” He smiled at her, tiredly.

“Oh, I was in the vicinity causing trouble and thought I’d recruit some of your children,” he replied. She grinned, and they have the exact same smile, I swear. Then the rest of them cascaded out like a small wave and it was touching and alarming and beautiful and odd all at once. I mean, how do you even fit that many people into one house?

Dinner was… Homey. Filled with conversation and laughter and jokes. We had to sit so close together that more than once, I got food spilled on me from someone else’s plate, but I didn’t even care. The Force was unsullied by war or death or loss. There was only intimacy, only warmth, only joy and Obi-wan seemed completely in his element. He listened to the updates about the family’s health, newborns, crops, complaints and victories with an indulgent smile. He offered to clean dishes and help with bedtime. He was folded back into the family’s normal routine seamlessly.

And they liked me, too. Obi-wan didn’t need to introduce me actually. The moment anyone in the house saw my face, they laughed. “Anakin!” Everyone cried, as if they had known me my whole life. I got hugged a lot. Real, good, smothering hugs that mom gave out. It was a little disconcerting, but mostly just... Nice. I’m so rarely treated like an actual _person_ outside the Jedi. But here, there was no such thing as Jedi and war and clones and the Republic. I was Anakin. He was Obi-wan.

When desert had been served, I found myself at a loss. Little cousins and neighbors were ushered back to their beds and homes. Dusk had long fallen, and the entire galaxy lay sprawled on its face in the sky. It was magnificent. I had to go see it for myself, so I stepped onto the front porch, not expecting to find that Obi-wan had already beat me to the punch. He sat there too.

“So,” I venture, plopping down beside him. He has a thin, newly sown blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He offers me a corner of it, and I squish next to him to snuggle into the warmth. “I guess _Jedi Master_ Obi-wan Kenobi doesn’t exist out here.”

Obi-wan smiles ruefully. “Not in so many words, no. In fact, neither does Obi-wan Kenobi.”

“What do you mean? C’mon, don’t tell me Obi-wan isn’t your real name?”

He chuckles. “That, I most certainly would have told you years ago. No, but there isn’t any record of my birth on this planet. My parents destroyed it when I went into the Order.” I gave a start.

“Why?”

His shrug tugs the blanket more securely. “Until recently, going into the Jedi Order wasn’t… Popular here. It’s considered a sign of bad luck and the Gods disfavor to have a child such as myself, especially for a firstborn. For the safety of the family, they had to disavow me the moment I displayed Force abilities.”

“But… Your last name…”

“It’s a popular name here. I could have been born to any StewJon family.”

I sit with that for a moment. Obi-wan does not seem disturbed by the knowledge. In fact, he seems at peace. As if being a complete blank in the galaxy is nothing other than satisfactory to him. “So. According to the records, you have no family.”

He smiles, eyes searching the stars. I have not seen him so relaxed for years. Like, a lot of years. “I suppose you could say that.”

“So how did you meet them?”

“Oh, the Jedi records are most thorough, I assure you. I met my parents when I was a teenager, and the rest of the family shortly afterwards.” There is a crash inside, a child’s voice calls out an apology. A mother’s exasperated sigh, then loving acceptance. Someone sweeping. It is so domestic. So normal. Obi-wan releases a slow breath, and I can physically feel the tension drain from him. That crash wasn’t a bomb. It wasn’t a civilian town destroyed. It was only a child, learning. I swallow around a lump in my throat.

_She had so much left to learn._

“Everyone here knew who I was,” I point out.

“If you haven’t noticed, Anakin, you’re on the holonews quite often.”

He’s a sarcastic barve, my master. It’s best not to indulge him. “They kept calling me _Kanis_. What does _Kanis_ mean?”

He cocks his head, as if listening to something far away. There were bugs flying nearby, their bellies jiggling with luminescent light. “It’s colloquial. It means _son of the first_ ,” he sighs and leans back, the blanket slipping from his shoulders. He crosses his legs, like a child. “They know you used to be my apprentice,” he continues. “You’re the reason I have a relationship with my mother, actually.”

_“I am?”_

“Yes. The night of Master Qui-gon’s funeral, after you’d fallen asleep, I sought wisdom,” he pauses, eyes far away. “I don’t know if you remember, but I was _so young_ when I took you,” he had seemed ancient to me. Obi-wan has always seemed more than capable, larger than life.

But now… He just looks like a man. “The previous day, I’d been an apprentice. The Council had refused me the Knighthood trials because I wasn’t ready and the next… I’m a Jedi Knight and a master. And you were so _different_ from me, from any Jedi child. There was so much you needed to learn and so many obstacles stacked against you. I wasn’t adequate and I was terrified I’d somehow… Mess you up, I suppose.”

“Oh, you did,” I assure him because it’s true, and because he looks so lost and sad. He rolls his eyes at me. I grin.

“So I called mother. In those first few weeks, I called her almost constantly. I asked her questions I never knew I would have until I met you. How to convince a stubborn nine-year-old to take a bath when he’d never sat in water before. Whether it was normal that you kept hiccupping every five seconds. When I should insist that you try new things and when to let you decide what not to try. Whether you were allergic, lactose intolerant or just didn’t like milk and that’s why you wouldn’t drink it. Why you couldn’t seem to stop having nightmares. I was in no way ready to train a Padawan, but with you it was more.”

“You raised me,” I agree softly.

“I wasn’t ready for that either. She was very patient with me.”

“Patient with the both of us, I guess. Its not like I was the _easiest_ Padawan either.”

“Your powers of understatement are impeccable.”

“Hey!” I elbow him playfully and he shoves me away. After a moment of an impromptu wrestling match, we land back in our previous positions. I fold my legs under me and watch the stars. “So that’s why they call me son of the first. You’re firstborn and I…”

“In their minds, the only way to describe our relationship is that of parent and child,” he finishes. I stare at him. How else would you categorize it? The Jedi may claim that Master and Padawan bonds are supposed to be for teaching only, but I had seen other Jedi with their apprentices. It was a parental bond if ever I’d seen one. The heart of the Order. The very fabric of the family unit.

“I mean…” I glance at him askance, suddenly shy. “You’re the closest thing I have to a father.”

“That must be why I spoiled you,” he deduced.

“Spoiled me? You didn’t spoil me! You didn’t take me to Courascant’s moon every year!”

“Are you ever going to let that go?”

“No!” We laugh together. I lean over to press my forehead to the soft robes above his shoulder. It’s a familiar position, even if I have not indulged in it for a very long time. When he gently settles a hand on the back of my neck, I settle. I’ve always settled. “So you’re fine with having no records of your birth? Of just… Not existing?”

“Just because there are no records of my birth doesn’t mean there won’t be record of my death,” he points out. I raise my head and smoosh my cheek against the shoulder I’d just been using as a headrest so I can see his face. In the dim light of the porch, the shadows beneath his eyes are even more profound.

“What? You mean the busts in the Archives?” I ask.

“No. I have a Will.”

Surprises all around. “You _what_? Where?”

He jerks his head back toward the house. “Inside. Mother keeps it for me.”

“W-why? You don’t have anything to give away.”

He taps the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be so sure. When I die, this belongs to you,” he holds up his saber. Now, I’ve held his saber before. Multiple times. Maybe as many times as he has held mine, but the Jedi’s lightsaber is sacred, it’s… It’s more than just a weapon. It’s a culmination of a life. Usually, it’s burned with the Jedi.

I gulp. I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted it. “What if we die together?”

“We won’t,” he says with utmost surety. I shiver. He glances at me. “What? I’ve always said you’re going to be the death of me. Did you suppose I was _entirely_ joking?”

The Force doesn’t contradict him. “Don’t say that. I couldn’t ever hurt you.”

His hand wraps around my wrist. “The feeling is mutual. I hope you know that,” I nod. “There are other things which belong to me, though I never asked for them or sought them out. It doesn’t matter now. When the time comes, you’ll know about them.”

“I don’t want them,” I declare. The unspoken _I want you_ floats in the air. I let it sit, hope that Obi-wan can hear the whisper of what I don’t say the same way I hear the whisper of what he’s not saying. “Have you ever thought about leaving the Order? Coming back here and being… Normal?” I ask.

He nods. “Oh yes. It’s crossed my mind a few times. But the vow I’ve made is not easily broken. Besides,” he shrugs. “I love being a Jedi. I was born to help those in need,” he turns, partially, to smile at the house. There is a shout, some padding from the dogs. “These people are kind, they are good. In another life, they could have been mine. But not now. Now, the Obi-wan Kenobi that would have lived in this house doesn’t exist.”

The same way that the Anakin who could have lived in that tiny apartment with his mother doesn’t exist. I was born to help people. To catalogue every star in the sky. “Do you think we’d still be friends, if we weren’t Jedi?” I ask, because I am genuinely curious. Obi-wan and I are so dissimilar, our personalities and values conflicting sometimes. If the Force hadn’t thrown us together and demand that we work as a team, would we ever have been friends in the first place? He hums.

“I really don’t know,” he answers, casually. “Do you think we’ll still be friends, if one day we decide _not_ to be Jedi?”

That takes me aback. I think on it. But the answer is sort of obvious. I may not know everything I thought I did about Obi-wan, but I know enough to be confident in this. “Yeah. Even if we don’t see each other every day, even if I’m angry at you or you’re angry with me, we’ll still be friends. You can’t be rid of me that easily old man.”

He snorts. “That’s what I’m counting on, Anakin.”

So, there you have it. It’s true. Obi-wan is a jerk, one favored by the Order and blessed by the Force. An enigma, even to those closest to him. But he’s my best friend and I love him like a brother, or maybe like a father. Not sure.

All I know is that the day that the Force tries to take him, Stars forbid it should ever come to that, I will yield every ounce of power to fight for his life. I know where my loyalties lie, and it is with something greater than a Code or a Democracy. It is with something that even the Force would be hard-pressed to tear apart because it is _my Will_. And my will is law, the prophecy says so. 

I try not to worry about the contents of Obi-wan’s Will, even if his admission inspired me to create my own. I keep it with Padme, a last testament to the two people who matter most in my life. And the secrets that we keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me on this one!


End file.
